


all the honourable young men

by Jenwryn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Future Fic, M/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She holds his hand, the first time they do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the honourable young men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eppy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=eppy).



> For the prompt "Arthur/Merlin/Gwen, all the honorable young men", at the [Scandalize a Conservative! Pornathon](http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/273033.html).

She holds his hand, the first time they do it, as if some kind of confirmation is required, though for whom, exactly, Merlin isn’t even sure. Merlin’s not sure of a lot, these days, however, (magic, guilt, the clash of swords), and he’s learning to roll with it. Not sure of much at all, for example, as he licks the length of Arthur’s cock – first one side, then the other – to let it slide the better between his lips. He’s not much sure of anything, no, as he sucks Arthur inside his mouth, as he tries something with his tongue, tries something with the depth of it; least of all sure whether what he’s doing feels great or awful. Maybe it’s good to have her hand in his, then, to have the way she squeezes and strokes, and Merlin can suck in time to that, as he tries to put in practice the talk he’s heard in taverns and filthy tales. There’s her hand, then, and the way that Arthur’s thighs twitch beneath Merlin’s weight, and barely anything else, because Arthur is stupid and stoic and doesn’t believe in moaning the way that Merlin cannot help but do the minute someone lays a breathe upon him. 

Gwen is on the ground beside them, one breast out, sweet nipple sharp in the evening light. Merlin can see her, if he wants, which he does, if he tilts his head to one side (Arthur grunts, and it feels like victory). Merlin likes the way she’s smiling, heavy-lidded, satisfied, and how her hand, the one not holding his, is somewhere beneath her skirts and busy moving – slowly, swiftly, strokes echoed in the motion of her elbow. He likes the way she grips his fingers, grips and smiles, and how they’re both of them on the receiving end of that.

There’s a war outside their tent, a war beyond their beds of hay and dull campfire light, all the honourable young men lined up to die and strive and fight, and Merlin cannot know what to do about them, about it, except hold Gwen’s hand tighter, and suck Arthur’s cock deeper (sweet noise of Arthur groaning, and Merlin moans in response), and wait, wait, wait.


End file.
